A Troublesome Galatea: A Romance in Two Acts
by Giada Luna
Summary: Professor Shikamaru Nara boasts that he can pass off a common Covent Garden flower girl as a duchess. When his friend Colonel Akimichi takes him up on the bet, he agrees, and Ino's education begins. The genius Nara had accounted for every variable but one: what to do when the experiment has ended and the bet is won?
1. Act I

_If you haven't read Shaw's 'Pygmalion' or watched/heard the musical 'My Fair Lady, please, friend, do so. It is something well worth the time. I of course, own neither Mr. Shaw's nor Mr. Kishimoto's incarnations, but could not resist the idea to put our own favorite Konoha flower girl in the shoes of Eliza Doolittle._

_If you are unfamiliar with the story, it is based off of the myth of Pygmalion, a sculptor who fell in love with the statue he created as his perfect woman and then wished to life. In his play _Pygmalion_, George Bernard Shaw's Eliza Doolittle is the subject of a bet between Professor Henry Higgins and his friend Colonel Pickering. The professor of phonetics proposes to teach Eliza to speak and behave so well, that she will pass as a lady in the upper echelons of London society. The musical _My Fair Lady_ is adapted from Shaw's play._

_Offered as a playful diversion, friends, I humbly submit:_

* * *

**A Troublesome Galatea: A Romance in Two Acts.**

**Act I:**

London, 1912

Professor Nara was asleep on the couch with his newspaper over his face when his long-time friend Colonel Akimichi came rushing in the drawing room.

"Nara!" he exclaimed. "I've just heard! When did she disappear?!"

Professor Shikamaru Nara, world renowned authority on the study of phonetics and speech, gave the incredibly articulate response of "Huh?"

"My word, Nara," haven't you heard the commotion? She's gone missing, I tell you, missing! I am going to have to have some tea to steady my nerves; I'll go fetch Mrs. Pearce."

"Colonel," Shikamaru sighed, sliding the paper off of his face and slowly sitting up. "Start from the beginning. Who is missing?"

"Why Miss Hana, of course!" he said, flustered. "What the devil do you think I've been telling you?

Professor Nara frowned. "Well that doesn't make any sense," he said calmly. I saw her in this very room last night, after the ball, just before I went upstairs to bed." He crossed to his massive desk and unlocked the drawer, gesturing to it. "And here are the jewels you hired for her, safe and sound, right where I put them before I went up to bed. It was quite late then; when would she have gone? And why?"

"That's just it, old boy – we don't know! According to Mrs. Pearce, someone came to the door at seven this morning in a taxi, collected her things and went away directly. She disappeared sometime in the night!"

"A taxi?" Shikamaru's frown deepened. "Whatever for? And to where? And from where? As I said, she was here when I went up to bed. Where can one possibly go in the middle of the night that they can't just as easily go during a reasonable time of day and after a decent breakfast?"

At the mention of 'Breakfast,' he saw his friend's pupils dilate. "What a nuisance," he muttered. "Let's have some breakfast, Colonel, and then we shall begin to figure this out."

* * *

_Earlier that morning:_

It had been cold and in the wee hours of the morning when she returned to the familiar street, all of her easily carried possessions in the taxi with Sai. He had eyed the street warily and asked if she wanted him to go with her, but she had smiled and politely declined. He did as she asked and waited in the hansom cab as she stepped out into the flower market of Covent Garden.

Her heels clicked a slow tattoo on the cobblestone streets as she walked as one in a familiar dream, reaching out to phantasms. She saw the burning bin where three men stood alternately blowing on their hands and holding them outstretched to the fire. Their uneven, heavily accented conversation might have grated on the refined ear, but it called to her like some uneducated cockney siren beckoning her to a familiar shore.

She approached and hesitated.

"Might I warm my hands by the fire?" she politely asked the dustman.

The nearest man looked up sharply at the cultured voice. "S-sure miss," he tipped his hat making room for her.

She gratefully stretched gloved hands to the fire while he took her in. He squinted, and then his eyes went wide and he stared at her. "Excuse me, miss, but ain't you…!"

She looked over to him, startled, her wide, blue eyes bright and beautiful in the flow of the firelight. "N-No it couldn't be. I'm sorry, miss. I thought you was someone else."

"Who?" she asked, her eyes bright with hope.

"N-No one, miss," he stammered and blushed before ducking his head. "Best be on my way. G'night, miss." He ducked away from her, and the other two men shrugged and continued their conversation.

She looked around, the sting of tears pressing at the back of her eyes even as she refused to let them fall.

She stared at the streets where she had worked for so many years; at the place and people that had once been her home and family.

She no longer belonged here.

She tucked a stray cornsilk blonde curl of hair back into her bonnet.

What was to become of her? Would she really be able to get a job in the flower shop now? Where was she to go?

Heartbroken at having no home, and belonging nowhere, she went back to where the cab stood. The young artist who claimed that he loved her waited there for her, and asked where she wanted to go. She could only think of one place and gave the address.

* * *

_That afternoon:_

"You mean to tell me," Mrs. Nara said, holding her tea cup and saucer with a far firmer grip than was necessary, "That after all of the work that you did, and after a stunning performance at last night's gala, no one even had the decency – the common courtesy! – to congratulate you, or tell you that you had done well?"

Ino shrugged. "When we returned home from the ball, they spent the remainder of the late evening congratulating each other on how well they had done to present the gutter snipe to royalty all the while passing her off as a lady, and exclaiming how glad they were that it was over." She quietly sipped her tea. "Not a word was said to me."

The teacup and saucer clattered forcefully against the table earning a sigh from the man on the settee, flicking through the morning paper. "Yoshino," he drawled, "mind the china."

"Oh I'll mind the china," she fumed. "I'll mind that I send it straight toward the thick head of that son of mine."

Mr. Nara stood and stretched. "Didn't you say you were going to meet Mrs. Sarutobi in the gardens? You know Kurenai is always punctual."

"I did," Mrs. Nara said, standing. "Stay as long as you like, dear," she said to Ino kindly. "That mutton headed son of mine has no manners. I shall speak with him later." With that, she sallied forth into the garden, leaving Ino to sip her tea quietly.

Shikaku shook his head and went back to his paper. When his son and his son's longtime friend had taken on this bet, he knew there would be trouble. How his lazy son had managed to become a professor of anything, much less phonetics, never ceased to amaze him. Colonel Akimichi was a good influence on the boy, even if he sometimes put more faith in him than he probably deserved. He studied the straight back and fair profile of the blonde woman as she sat deep in thought. She certainly hadn't appeared to be much when she first arrived, but he had seen the clever and quick mind behind the pretty eyes and dirty face. They had encountered the girl outside of the opera in Covent Garden; both he and his son had attended at Yoshino's insistence and had dozed in and out of the performance. Thank goodness the Colonel had been there to keep Yoshino distracted, er, company.

As they exited the performance, they were all caught in the rain, and took refuge in the markets and the portico of St. Paul's. Shikamaru had amused himself by jotting down the speech of those around him, and was particularly intrigued by the uncommonly common speech of the girl peddling her flowers.

"I could teach her to speak like a duchess," he had boasted lazily.

She had shown up at his office – which was also his home – the very next day, looking for lessons. She wanted to work in the flower shops, but they wouldn't consider her unless she "could speak more genteel-like." Shikaku suspected that Chōji had suggested the bet as the only way he could get his friend to help the girl. She was probably around the same age as the three of them, and the Colonel clearly felt badly for her. The next several months were spent training her in etiquette, conversation, diction, mannerisms – anything and everything she would need to pass herself off as a lady and circulate seamlessly in society.

Yes, they taught her everything she needed to know, except for one, final lesson: what to do when everything was over.

No matter how pleasantly she spoke or how gracefully she moved, she was still the low-born daughter of the streets of London, and no marriage of consequence would come to her. Certainly no marriage that would elevate her to actually circulating in the pond in which she had been trained to swim.

Shikaku frowned. They had taken her from her place in her world, and given her the skills to navigate a world to which she could never possibly belong. That was the sad fate of the Hana girl.

He checked his pocket watch. If he didn't miss his guess, his son would come by any moment to tell them about the girl's disappearance. He hoped his old friend down at the Yard would have a report for him not too long from now.

"Mother? Father?" A voice echoed down the hall, rapidly approaching. Shikaku smiled to himself. Right on time. "You'll never believe it – the most confounded thing! The Hana girl has disappeared without a trace. Left in the middle of the night to go to who knows where, and we-"

The voice stopped. Professor Nara stood and stared as his father looked drolly up from his paper, and the woman for whom he had been searching since early morning quietly sipped at her tea.

"I think I hear your mother," Shikaku said, folding his newspaper, tucking it under his arm, and disappearing from the room – in the opposite direction from the gardens.

Shikamaru stared at Ino, who simply sat sipping her tea as if nothing was the matter. He glared at her. How dare she sit there so calmly after the morning he had? He had spoken to the police several times, and Colonel Akimichi was simply beside himself, calling in old friends to help locate the missing girl. None of the servants had seen or heard anything; even the efforts to find the cab she had taken had proved uninformative.

He knew that artist – Sai Somethingorother – had been hanging around lately; probably thought himself in love with the girl. The Colonel had gone off to find him to see if he knew anything about her whereabouts. A tiny part of the Professor was more than a little relieved not to find her in his company.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and descended the short flight of stairs to stand before her at the table.

She looked up at him, calmly. "Tea?" she offered with a carefully perfected 100% socially acceptable smile. "Are you well?" she asked, pouring him a cup. "But of course you are well," she continued airily, "you are never ill. Did your appointments go well this morning?" She handed him the cup of tea.

He reflexively took the offered cup, still staring at her. "I couldn't find my appointment book," he grumbled. He couldn't find anything, it turned out. He had no idea who he was supposed to see, where anything was, or what his commitments were for that morning or any other morning in the near future. He had left Mrs. Pearce to make apologies to anyone who came by, telling her to cite a family emergency. It appeared that without her there, he was quite at a loss.

"Top desk drawer, right hand side," she said plunking several cubes of sugar into his cup. "You put it there last night when clearing your desk after the evening."

"Was that before or after you hurled my slippers at my head?" he asked, taking a seat opposite her.

"Before, I should think," she said with a finger to her cheek as if trying to recall. "You had not yet begun your pompous speech re: how ungrateful I was for all of the attention showered upon me by yourself and the Dear Colonel."

Professor Nara's eyebrow twitched. "The 'dear colonel' is quite beside himself thanks to you and your tomfoolery this morning. Well, you have a bit of your own back, I suppose – time to come back now, Ino, and put an end to this nonsense."

The beautiful girl blinked innocently. "Come back?" she half gasped. "Why whatever for? You said yourself that everything was concluded as of yesterday evening. Why would I return? What purpose would it serve? You need someone to fetch and carry for you? To keep track of your appointments? You did quite well before my arrival; I daresay you shall do so again."

"And so I shall," he said dryly. "But if you do not return to Wimpole Street, then where do you intend to go? Have you found a job a one of those flower shops you were considering? Or will you marry?" he asked stirring his teacup idly. "There were quite a few dignitaries impressed with your company. Seems a bore to me, but I suppose not everyone considers marriage as troublesome as the Colonel and I do." He sipped at his tea. "But I will say, we would miss you," he continued slowly. "It will be different without you."

"Oh, I can imagine," she said coolly, steeling herself against any sympathetic emotion. "Think of all of the things you shall have to do for yourself! Poor Mrs. Pearce – she'll have to put up with you barking orders at all hours." She challenged him with her glare. "But you shall not get around me, Professor Nara. My mind is made up."

"Get around you? Who is trying to get around you? If you wanted so badly to be gone from the place you could have left this morning after coffee," he grumbled.

"And after carefully detailing your commitments to you?" she asked with a note in her voice that rang suspiciously like steel. "Forgive me for having missed that opportunity."

"So whereto now?" He asked abruptly. "If you do not return, where shall you go?" He paused and looked at her carefully. "Have you anywhere to go?"

"Captain Nara has extended an invitation for me to stay as long as I like," she said pouring herself another cup of tea. "Both he and your mother were quite insistent."

Shimakaru frowned into his cup. "Do tell," he muttered.

"I do not intend to stay long," she said pouring the cream into her cup and watching it roil up through the dark tea to make pale clouds on the surface. "As you have said, I must decide where to go."

"To which dignitary?" he asked, his tone bored. "Any of them other than that awful Hungarian would do."

"Your former pupil?" Ino asked, masking the mischief in her smile. "I had thought to hire myself as an assistant to him and help teach phonetics."

Shikamaru looked up at her sharply. "You thought to-! To teach him my methods? My work? My discoveries?! You wouldn't dare."

"I would," she said simply, "if that was my best course of action. As for the dignitaries, I don't have an interest in them."

"And I suppose you are interested in that artist, Sai?" he asked, acid lacing his lazy tone. "All of that mooning about – is _that_ how you wanted the Colonel and me to treat you?"

"That's not what I wanted from either of you," she shook her head. "I've had plenty of chaps that have wanted me that way; even Sai writes several times every day; sheet and sheets worth."

Shikamaru shuddered "I can only imagine it is the most dreadful prose known to man. Can he possibly be less awkward on paper than he is in person? And where does he come off writing to you in such a manner?"

Ino pitched her chin a bit higher. She'd die before admitting Sai's letters were awkward; endearing, but awkward. "He can do as he likes," she said defensively, before adding softly, "and he does love me."

"You shouldn't encourage him," the professor reached for the teapot to warm his cup. "Lord knows he doesn't need it."

"Every girl has a right to be loved."

He stared up at her, but she stared at the bottom of her teacup. He had several arguments to make. No woman should be loved by a fool, and certainly not one that could make nothing more of her. She had worked so hard; would she throw away her training to live with someone that would give her nothing in return? He had no doubt she could be good for the man; he was wrapped up in his own artistic world, and she would be the one to make sure bills were paid, and coal was in the fire. But such a pedestrian life – when she could be so much better?

But if that was truly what she wanted, did he have the right to stop her?

"Nara, I have just come back from the Yard – the detective is with me, and –" Colonel Akimichi stopped short, and stared at Ino. "Miss Hana!" he grinned. "Oh my, but we were worried for you! Look here, Chief Inspector, she is alright!" Chōji strode forward and Ino stood gracefully to greet him.

"I am sorry to have made you worry, Colonel," she said as he reached to clasp her hand in his own.

"As long as you are safe, Miss Hana, that is all that matters. Both the professor and I were beside ourselves this morning," he beamed down at Shikamaru. "Weren't we, Professor?"

Ino looked at the Professor, curiously, who in turn frowned with a slight blush and stared into his tea.

"Is that so?" she asked quietly. "Then… I am sorry," she said turning back to face the kindhearted Colonel.

"Ah, Colonel, good to see you," Captain Nara strode back in the room. "And with Chief Inspector Kakashi – what a pleasant surprise."

"Captain," the detective nodded his head politely. "Might I have a word?"

"Certainly. Join me in my study. Please excuse us gentlemen," he nodded to Chōji and his son, "Miss Hana," he nodded to Ino.

Shikamaru watched them go with a suspicious look. In another lifetime his father's military career had intersected the career of Kakashi, and it piqued his interest that the man would be paying his father a visit.

"Well, as thrilling as this reunion has been," he said, standing abruptly. "I must get back to my appointments. I shall see you later, Colonel. Good day, Miss Hana." Without waiting for so much as a nod in response, he strode out of the room and made his way for the door. He tried not to focus on the image of her startled look, or how large and blue her eyes were in her pale face. He stepped out onto the pavement and decided to forego a taxi in favor of a brisk walk. Damnably, he could not clear his mind from the aching haunt of a missing presence. His brisk pace slowed as the realization crept over him.

"I've grown accustomed to her face," he admitted begrudgingly as he stared up at the passing clouds.

His own words ringing in his ears, he remained grimly silent as his world realigned around something he had long suspected but strongly hoped was not true. He cared for Miss Hana. He cared for the motherless, fatherless daughter of London's streets, who had wanted nothing more than to be able to support herself by selling flowers in a shop. He cared for the girl who had risen so far beyond her former life and available connections as to now be more isolated than she had ever been. Was it any wonder she wanted her independence back?

And what of this Sai, this artist fellow? He came from a good enough family, but they were poor. It was a cruel trick of their society when families lost their money, yet their social position did not allow them to seek employment. Sai's family hadn't had the money to give a decent education and all of the necessary connections; he was qualified to bear on old name in poverty, and not much else. If he married Miss Hana, she'd no doubt spend the rest of her life supporting them both. Something stuck in his craw over that notion. Love or not, it wasn't good enough. Not for her.

He made his way home in this quagmire of new considerations, went directly to his library, retrieved his cigarettes, and sat down to smoke and ponder.

What in the world was to be done about her? He stared up at the high ceilings and began to think.

* * *

The next day:

Colonel Akimichi opened the door to the study and peered through the haze of smoke to see his friend sitting in his chair with his eyes closed and his fingers in a diamond shape in front of him. Recognizing the posture, he entered quietly and cracked open a few of the small windows. The Professor didn't budge, though, and remained deep in thought, much as he had for the majority of yesterday and the entirety of that morning.

"He's been thinking again?" a voice asked from the doorway.

Chōji looked up to see Miss Hana in her coat and hat, her face carefully composed. "Miss Hana!" he exclaimed. "It is good to have you back! Come, come, let me take your coat and we-"

"Thank you, Colonel," she said kindly, "but I am not staying."

"Not staying?" the Colonel's face fell. "But why ever not?"

"It turns out," she said slowly, "that I have a few places to go to settle some personal affairs," she replied. "I shall not be in London for quite some time."

Shikamaru's chair faced away from the door. Now, he swiveled it to face her, and took her in with a calculating eye.

"Affairs?" he asked with a hint of incredulity. "What kind of 'affairs,'" he asked skeptically.

"My own," she said stiffly. "And none of your concern, which I should think would be a great relief to you. Thank you for your kindness, Colonel," she took Chōji's hands warmly. "You have treated me as a lady from the moment we met, and that was more than I ever knew I could deserve."

Chōji blushed slightly. "It has been a pleasure knowing you, Miss Hana."

"The pleasure was all mine, Colonel." She kissed him gently on both cheeks and smiled a smile that would have melted even the hardest of hearts.

He looked stunned before blushing fiercely as she turned to look over to Shikamaru with a carefully collected countenance.

"Professor Nara," she extended her hand to him. "Thank you for all of your…time," she finished after a moment of hesitation.

He stared at the proffered hand and rose slowly. She looked up at him as he stood, visibly starting when she realized he did not merely shake her outstretched gloved hand. He took it in both of his and held it firmly while his unreadable dark eyes searched her fair ones. "It was… troublesome, Miss Hana," he said solemnly, "but not unrewarding."

Ino reminded herself that he was being maddening again; not to pay him any mind or give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Even as she thought this, she thought that he looked a little… sad. She quickly dismissed the notion and extracted her hand from his with tact. "That is good to hear," she said quietly.

"Farewell, Miss Hana," the Professor said, and she met his eyes with a bittersweet expression.

"Goodbye, Professor Nara."

He tried not to balk at her choice of words; not farewell, but goodbye.

It was a declaration.

She wasn't coming back.

"Thank you, gentlemen," she stepped back. "No need to follow. I know my way out." And with that, she swept out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the front door.

Shikamaru watched out of the window that afforded the view of the street in the front of the house, as Chōji joined him.

"Do you think she is alright?" the Colonel asked uncomfortably. "I can't imagine anything that would take her from London at this or any other time of the year. She has no family; where could she possibly be going."

Shikamaru narrowed his eyes.

"I do not know," he frowned as he noted the silhouette of another person waiting for her in the taxi, "but I mean to find out."

* * *

_**Edited 11/03/14:** Pardon, friends - I forgot to indicate that the final scene happened the next day. - GL_


	2. Act II

_Second half of my little diversion of a story. The manga is wrapping up friends. I count myself lucky to have 'met' some fellow fans of this incredible world Kishimoto has given to us. Thank you, friends, for sharing your stories, your thoughts, and your love of all things Naruto! I salute you!_

_And now, the conclusion to A Troublesome Galatea. _

* * *

**A Troublesome Galatea: A Romance in Two Acts.**

**Act II**

Hertfordshire: 1912

Three months had passed, the summer was beginning to give way to the first shades of Autumn, and Ino had not been to London since the day she left Professor Nara's home. Captain and Mrs. Nara had explained what Detective Inspector Kakashi had unearthed, and she was soon in a whirlwind of activity as the Captain helped her navigate the maelstrom of personal affairs that followed in the wake of that discovery.

Ino had once thought she would want to live in the city and attend parties and ride in taxis like so many of the glittering women that she saw going to the opera in Covent Garden. She had wanted to work in the flower shops. She had even wanted to marry Sai, at least a little bit.

But as she had traveled away from London and the only life she had ever known, her innate practicality and intense desire for freedom and independence began to erode those former priorities.

She fell in love with her new home and the rolling countryside which spanned for miles. It was more green than she had ever seen in one place, and she felt something inside of her begin to bloom at the very sight of it.

Sai had stood by her as much as he could during those months. He still wrote to her daily, but somehow she knew he would never make his home in Hertfordshire. When a rich patron suddenly took interest in Sai's work, she released him with a happy heart. He was troubled – he had thought that he loved her. Ino assured him that what he felt wasn't really love, and that he didn't love her nearly as well as he loved his art. She encouraged him to go, and when she kissed him goodbye, her heart did not break. How could it now?

She watched a bird soar over the thatched roof as she knelt in her garden. Her heart swelled at that simple action. Her roof. Her garden. She lived alone and was tended to by the minimum requisite number of maids, a cook, and the gardener that had worked there forever, thereby keeping her reputation intact – Yoshino had seen to that. Life was more lax in the country, and she happily took advantage of it. It was already late morning, and she had been in her garden for hours. She knelt on an old blanket and wiped her hands on the long, gray apron she tied over her skirt, relishing the feel of the dirt between her fingers. Her gardening gloves sat discarded with her shoes, looking abandoned. She had her hands deep in the soil when she heard the swing of the iron gate behind her. She wiped her forehead with her forearm, glad her wide-brimmed hat kindly stayed put. "Just bring that wheelbarrow of dirt to the side, John" she called over her shoulder to the gardener. "I'll be with you directly."

"I don't have a wheelbarrow," the familiar voice drawled, "but I shall wait just the same."

Ino's eyes went wide, and she sat back on her heels, stunned. She slowly wiped her hands on her apron, her back to the gate. She looked to her shoes and gloves ruefully; they seemed to be laughing at her from their spot under a nearby tree. Oh well – she was in her own home and she could do as she liked. She managed to stand, allowing her simple skirt to fall down about her ankles, largely concealing her bare feet. Brushing herself off, she turned to see one Professor Nara standing in her garden. His air of boredom and casual posture was achingly familiar, and she was surprised that he did not look more out of place. His face was thinner than when she had last seen it, and he did not look quite his usual self. She began bricking up her resolve. What in the world was he doing here of all places? What could he possibly mean by it?

"Forgive me," she said, gesturing down to her attire, gracefully. "I was not expecting company. I'll ring for tea, or," she looked up to the climbing sun, "perhaps you would prefer lemonade instead? I shall see what Cook has for us." She walked quickly toward the house and was met with the young housemaid and her tray of tea and food.

"Beggin' your pardon, mum" she bobbed a curtsey. "But I saw the gentleman come, and thought you might want some tea and a bite to eat." She put the tray down on the small table under the large tree with a smile.

"That will do, thank you," Ino said absently as the smiling girl made her way back to the house.

"Won't you sit, Professor Nara?" she asked. "I shall return directly."

He sank into his seat at the table, watching as she strode to the house, scooping up her shoes before disappearing in the doorway. Perhaps she was going to go tell Miss Yamanaka that there was a visitor. That was fine with him, he had a few things to ask this mysterious woman. Where had Miss Hana met her? What was Miss Hana's role here in her home?

He fished the folded pieces of paper out of his pocket and looked them over again. He and his father played chess regularly, and in lieu of his absence, they were carrying on a game long-distance, communicating moves via telegram. They actually had several games going, but this particular match had been slow-moving. The first telegram in his hand was from three days ago:

WHITE ROOK TO D7 STOP  
THE BACK GARDEN OF THE FLOWER COTTAGE LITTLE HADAM HERTFORDSHIRE STOP

He did not recognize his father's strategies in this game; it was an unusual form of play for him. He had been in check three times since his father's strange and possibly brilliant 24th move, sacrificing his rook to Shikamaru's pawn on D4. Now, thirteen moves later, his father was willing to sacrifice his remaining rook. Why? He had replied:

BLACK ROOK TO D7 STOP  
ROOK TAKES ROOK STOP  
WHAT IS IN LITTLE HADAM STOP

To which his father returned:

WHITE BISHOP TO C4 STOP  
BISHOP TAKES QUEEN STOP  
NOT WHAT WHOM STOP

Shikamaru had felt his chest constrict; was his Father finally telling him something – anything – about Ino?

BLACK PAWN TO C4 STOP  
PAWN TAKES BISHOP STOP  
WHO IS IN LITTLE HADAM STOP

His father's reply came

WHITE QUEEN TO H8 STOP  
QUEEN TAKES ROOK STOP  
GO LATE MORNING TO EARLY AFTERNOON ON NICE DAY STOP  
SPEAK WITH MISS YAMANAKA STOP

He frowned; it wasn't Miss Hana after all, but at least it was a clue. He had taken the time to send back one more reply before hurrying to take his father's clue.

BLACK ROOK TO D3 STOP  
TROUBLESOME STOP  
BOTH YOUR TELEGRAMS AND THIS GAME STOP

He was half musing over the game board in his head. No more pieces had been captured, but the game was quickly nearing a conclusion, and he was waiting on his father's next move. He was finding it difficult to concentrate, though, and his eyes kept drifting to the white clouds drifting across the bright blue sky overhead.

His musings were interrupted when Ino re-emerged from the house, shoes on, sans gardening hat and apron. Her long, blonde hair was back rather simply in a low braided bun, but his sharp eyes caught the damp hair around her face.

_"I washed my hands and face before I come, I did."_

He could still hear her indignant retort to being described as dirty, those many months ago when she first came to his office demanding lessons. No one would recognize the guttersnipe in this graceful creature pouring his tea as if she had been born to a life of receiving social callers at her 'days at home.'

He took the cup that she automatically prepared to his liking, and watched her as she prepared her own. No sugar. Cream.

"Are you well?" she asked, her eyes only flicking toward him occasionally as she tried to ferret out why he had come.

"Ah," he said sipping the tea.

"And your parents?" she asked, putting several things on a plate she knew he would like and handing it to him. "Are they also well?"

"Yes," he replied. She worried the inside of her cheek.

"And the Colonel-?"

"Every one of our mutual acquaintance is well, the weather is fine, and every other topic of conversation is damnable," he said in bored exasperation. She looked up at him in surprise. "I certainly did not travel the length and breadth of England to discuss such things."

Ino quirked an eyebrow at him. "And what task, pray tell, have you undertaken that you must travel so widely, and what topic would you prefer?" she asked with a honeyed sweetness and a glint to her eye that he knew to be dangerous.

He hadn't realized until that precise moment how much he had missed seeing it.

"Looking for you, for starters," he grumbled into his cup. "And any topic is preferable to small talk. I taught it to you; I don't need a recitation."

"Looking for me?" she was genuinely surprised and ignored the remainder of his grumbled sentence. "Whatever for? Your parents have known precisely where I have been from the onset; your mother was with me for a large portion of these last few months. Why, she only returned to London three days ago, and is to come again in two weeks."

Shikamaru's eyebrow twitched.

"She did not tell you?" Ino asked, confused.

"She did not," he said, his voice grim. In fact his mother had barely spoken to him since the day he found Ino in her home, and when she did it was only to voice her many and disapproving opinions of how the girl had been treated by her son. He could overlook that – it was not unusual for his mother. But to not let him know that his parents had never been out of contact with Miss Hana? That she was well? That she was safe? That she hadn't left the country? He was just as angry that he had worried unnecessarily as he was relieved to find she was well.

"Oh," Ino said quietly.

She glanced over at him. She and the Nara's initially agreed not to tell anyone about her unexpected improvement in circumstances until the matter was settled, as there was no telling what would come of it. They had, though promised to see her through it and were better than their word. She could see where the Professor got his intelligence; Captain Nara navigated the complicated legal matters as one accustomed to designing and executing complex battle plans. Mrs. Nara had a shrewd instinct that kept anyone from pressing an advantage. Between the two of them, Ino had felt confident during the tumultuous months that followed.

"So where is this Miss Yamanaka?" the Professor asked curtly, putting down his cup and taking a small finger sandwich from the plate she made him.

Ino blinked at him. "I… I beg your pardon?"

How he could sigh with a full mouth, she had never really been able to determine, but he did it with great conviction.

He fished the telegrams from the inside of his jacket and handed them to her, and she read through them quickly. "This is her home, is it not? The only information I was able to get out of my Father was a name and an address. That is how I came here. He told me to speak to Miss Yamanaka."

Ino ran her finger over the messages before handing them back, keeping her voice distant. "Is that all he told you?"

The Professor gave some derisive sound and folded the papers before putting them back in his pocket. "That is all. I was told by the locals that this house has been in a family for a long time, so I assumed that if Miss Yamanaka is living alone she is a spinster. I had no idea you would be here; have you been hired as her companion?"

Ino's expression was impossible to read.

"How do you know her," he tried again, picking up cup and saucer and watching the hint of color begin to rise in her cheeks. "I see she has a lovely garden," he shifted his gaze to the flowers. The property had some lovely tall trees and a grove. It was a peaceful kind of place – somewhere you could look up and watch the clouds drift by.

Ino sipped her tea. "I help tend the gardens," she said offhandedly. "I am glad you find them to be acceptable."

Shikamaru looked around the garden and back to the young woman who looked so at home here. "So you finally found a bit of earth." He said quietly.

Ino smiled at that. When they had been discussing dialects and pronunciation, he showed her that new book by Frances Hodgsen Burnett, _The Secret Garden_. It turned out she had a wickedly fast ear for dialects, for music, for anything - and could imitate almost anything after hearing it only once. She had delighted the Professor and the Colonel with her Yorkshire interpretation. The professor then showed her how the author had written the dialect and how he would write it using his phonetic alphabet. As diverting as that had all been, Ino had a soft spot for the story of an orphaned girl whose life was healed by a garden.

"You could say that," she replied with an aloof manner that made him watch her carefully.

"And… you are happy here?" he asked placing his cup back down. She stood to refill it out of a habit she did not know she had retained.

"Yes," she said simply. "It suits me."

"What of your artist friend," he asked as she poured. "Plenty of lovely things for him to sketch – what was his name again? Sal? Stan?"

Ino gave him a sidelong glance. "Sai."

"Oh, Sai, yes, of course." The professor took the tea from her hand and stirred it absently. "What does Miss Yamanaka think of him?"

Ino felt a familiar exasperation rising that she had learned was a unique reaction to this particular man. She tended to her own tea cup to keep her temper in check. "I expect she thinks nothing of him," she answered in a carefully schooled tone, "as he is not in this part of the world. He should be in Paris by now, I should think," she continued. "Madam Shijimi was most insistent that they go. Good for his career, you know."

The Professor paused and looked up at her, startled. "Paris? You mean to say the blaggard left you?"

Ino smiled gently. "I believe it is fairer to say that I released him," she stirred her second cup of tea.

"And is that why you are here?" he gestured around to the cottage. "Have you taken on the position of companion to this Miss Yamanaka whoever the devil she is?"

Ino put her cup and spoon down and gave a quick sigh. "Professor Nara," she interrupted what she knew was the beginnings of a rant. "Why are you here?" He stopped his tirade and returned to his cup sulkily. "Surely," she continued, "you didn't 'travel the length and breadth of England'" she quoted him "to discuss a spinster you've never met nor an artist you could barely tolerate." She looked him over. "So why have you come?"

He put down his teacup and saucer and folded his hands as he looked up to the drifting clouds. The sky was the kind of blue that reminded him of her eyes, but he found it easier to gaze there than at her.

"I came," he said slowly, "Because you said good-bye."

Ino sat perfectly still.

"One of our very first conversations was over greetings, salutations, and the like. You said that you liked the French sensibility of au revoir versus adieu, but that you thought for all the 'genteel-like airs' of farewell, that good-bye was more final. More direct and to the point."

She watched him even as he kept his gaze on the calm sky above them.

"When you left," he said, watching a bird lazily circle overhead, "You did not say 'farewell.' You said 'goodbye.' I knew then that if I was ever going to see you again, I would have to find you. I had hoped," he continued as the clouds meandered and changed lazily, "that your affairs would have concluded more quickly than this and I would see you again in London. I did go back to my parents the day after you left, but I was told they were not at home. The next morning my mother telephoned me with a few very select words, and I have been looking for you ever since." His gaze drifted over her, noting that she was staring down fixedly at the table. "I am afraid that things have been rather troublesome without you."

Ino arched an eyebrow delicately but did not look up at him. "Still can't find your appointment book or your slippers?" she asked.

"Damn the appointment book and the slippers," he said, leaning forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees. "The trouble is you, Ino."

She looked up at the use of her given name, as much as the accusation.

"Me?" she asked, incredulously. "I haven't darkened your door – or even been anywhere near London – for nigh on three months. How could I possibly be the problem?!"

"Just as you say," he sighed. "That IS the problem. For three months, not a word. Not a syllable. Not an iota of information as to your whereabouts, your health, your – well, your _anything_."

Once, when Ino was a small child, a bullying sort of boy had chucked a few eggs at her. They had broken across her forehead and the side of her head, cascading down her face and neck and down the back of her dress in a sticky, slow, awful mess. (She had pummeled him good for that one.) Ino's eyes were wide as she felt a realization break over her in that same manner, chills seeping down her spine.

"You… you were worried about me," she said in astonishment.

"Of course I was worried about you," he scoffed. "What the devil do you think I have been trying to tell you?! Why in blazes would I waste my time looking for someone that I cared not a jot about? And here you are," he pinned her with a gaze, "holed up in some cottage in Hertfordshire, as a companion to some spinster who probably keeps cats and bores you to death with stories from a long past and now romantically sensationalized youth."

Ino was somewhere between stupefaction, incredulity, and feeling insulted.

"Where is this Miss Yamanaka?" he asked, getting to his feet and heading to the house. "Is she at home?" She sprang up to go after him, but stumbled on her skirt that was a bit too longish for the low, less fashionable shoes that she wore for gardening. Biting back a curse as she stubbed her toe against the table, Ino quickly righted herself as she went after the Professor who was marching into the cottage calling out for Miss Yamanaka.

"Is there a problem, sir?" the maid came in a hurry. "Is something wrong with Miss Yamanaka?"

"Where the devil is she," Shikamaru asked, annoyed. "I need to speak with her immediately about Miss Hana."

"Beggin' your pardon," the maid said, flicking her eyes behind him to her mistress, "but she's just behind you, sir."

Shikamaru whirled around and saw Ino standing there, looking helpless. "No, not Miss Hana," he said, turning back to the maid, "Miss Yamanaka."

"But sir," the looked to him in confusion. "That _is_ Miss Yamanaka. Hana was the Master's name – Miss Yamanaka's grandfather." She got a little closer and peered at him. "Are you well, sir?" she asked before narrowing her eyes before sniffing at him. "You haven't been drinking, have you?"

"That will do, Mariah," Ino said sharply. "Thank you."

The maid gave a hasty but polite curtsy before exiting the room.

Professor Shikamaru Nara whirled on Ino, and for a moment she marveled at having seen him move more and with greater agitation in the last five minutes than in the nine months she had known him.

"Explain," he growled.

Ino should have put him in his place then and there. She should have told him he was in her home and she would not stand for such treatment. She had concocted such speeches many times before and practiced giving them to the mirror, piles of bedclothes, and the hat stand. Now, here was the target she had so longed to skewer with her well-practiced verbal assaults.

As her eyes darted over the familiar face and she saw confusion and hurt in the cracks of his composed demeanor, she had a realization.

She couldn't say any of the things she had rehearsed, should this moment ever arise.

She found she just didn't have the heart.

"My mother was Ume Hana," she heard herself explaining. "She married Inoichi Yamanaka without her father's knowledge or consent. My father died before I was born, and no one knew where to find Mother and me. Captain Nara only just figured it out. He had been good friends with my father and was executor of his will, so he has been helping me. Thus," she shrugged. "I am Miss Yamanaka."

He stared at her, dumbfounded.

"I do not have cats," she added with a wry smile. "Yet."

"Yamanaka," he said slowly. The name was familiar, but his mind was slow to process. "The man who had been friends with the Colonel's father and mine?"

"Yes," she smiled sadly. "Apparently they were great friends. I understand the Ino-Shika-Cho trio was quite the stuff of legend." Since learning about that, she had guessed that if her father had lived, she might have grown up with the Professor and the Colonel. How very different her life might have been! Would the three of them have been good friends? Something told her they too would have been quite the trio.

"This…" he looked around. "This place is _yours_. This is your _home_," he marveled, the puzzle pieces landing in place for him.

She nodded. "I did not wish to live in the large manor house, and it has been let to another family. I preferred this small cottage, as, apparently did my mother. I have been told she spent much time here," she touched the wall near to her lovingly. "It isn't terribly much," she admitted. "But as you said: it is my home."

A sense of finality washed over him to settle as a lead weight in his stomach. She had a home. There was nothing for her in London now. She wouldn't be returning.

"I am sorry I have taken so much of your time," he said, straightening up slowly. He checked his pocket watch. "Is that the time? The Colonel will be expecting me back at the hotel in St. Albans. We have to catch a train tonight." He stuffed the timepiece back into his waistcoat and looked about for the nearest point of exit.

"Must you go?" Ino asked. "It is early; you should still be able to make it back to St. Albans for the last train back to London.

"Thank you, but no," he replied. "The Colonel has no doubt already made arrangements at the hotel in St. Albans for dinner. I must get back. I am glad to have found you well, In – Miss Yamanaka," he gave a curt bow and turned to leave.

"Why did you come?"

Her blurted question hanged heavy in the electrified air between them.

He stopped, staring at the door, his back to her. He gave a sigh.

"I told you why."

"You told me you were looking for me because you were concerned," she said, perhaps reproachfully. "You did not explain _why_ you were concerned." She smiled slightly. "And what were you going to say to Miss Yamanaka?"

He looked over his shoulder at her, his eyebrow raised. What the devil was she talking about?

"You stormed in the house to find Miss Yamanaka – I've seen that look before. You were about to give a slice of your mind. Well, I am she – what did you have to say?" He frowned at her. She had the gall to look amused by all of this

"It hardly applies now," he said grumpily.

"Why not?" Ino shrugged. "It isn't like you to not have something to say, is it?" She crossed the room and he turned involuntarily toward her, wary of the mischief hiding in her demure expression. "So what words did you have for this Miss Yamanaka?" she asked, her innocent expression marred by the tugging of a smile at her lips.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you diverted by this?"

"Exceedingly," she replied, her eyes sparkling in impish delight. "But come now. If you are to be believed, I am shortly to begin amassing cats and rambling about my youth long past. I wouldn't leave an opening in the conversation if I were you."

He should have left. He should have gone without a word and gone back to London and his home and his world of sounds and wax cylinders. He should have left her in her impudence to begin living her own life in whatever shade of spinsterhood she chose to dye it.

He couldn't simply leave without knowing if or when he would see her again.

He found he just didn't have the heart.

"I had intended to ask her," the Professor began, "if she knew that her companion, Miss Hana had recently dazzled the crème de la crème of London society and danced with royalty at the Embassy Ball. I wondered what on earth she was thinking allowing one of the brightest young ladies in London to tie herself down in a mundane role as ambiguous as 'companion.' Not even, as I understood it, a traveling companion – but a nursemaid to someone I was sure would be an aging, uninspiring woman who clearly didn't have the sense to see she was robbing her."

Ino's eyes grew wide, the mischief sliding off of her face to melt into what was quickly becoming shock. The Professor's normally wandering, bored gaze was now focused in on her and unwavering.

"I would have asked if she knew," he continued in a quiet voice, "that she was keeping her from everyone that had ever cared for her, by keeping her out of London." His eyes were steady as he looked into hers, and she felt something inside of her lurch wildly. He was standing close to her now and he reached out to gently brush a tendril of blonde hair from her face, gently tucking it behind her ear. He did it absently – as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and not the first time he had reached out to her that way. Almost before she could register the soft brush of his fingers against her skin, his hand was back at his side.

"And now that I am speaking with her," he said, "I wonder if she knows exactly how many people there are that care very much about her. I suspect that her previous count may have been off by at least one."

His eyes searched her face as he watched the realization skitter across her features followed by sheer incredulity tinged with something that looked suspiciously like hope.

"You are happy here, Miss Yamanaka?" he asked seriously.

She nodded slowly. She had found a contentment here that she had never felt in London – she was more at home here than any place she had ever been, save one specific instance in time.

When he had danced with her at the Embassy Ball.

It had been a Cinderella, fairy tale moment, and she could still feel his strong arm at her waist, guiding her through the waltz with a grace she never would have guessed he had. But by midnight, they were back on Wimpole Street, and both the Professor and the Captain were exclaiming how glad they were the whole thing was over. She had known then that she had to leave before she allowed her heart to break.

"I am happy here," she said. It was not a lie – she was happy. Ino was a practical, intelligent woman. She knew better than to wish for fairy tales, and her own reversal of fortune was more luck than anyone could dare hope for in one lifetime. She loved her little home and her gardens and waking up in her own morning. It was more than she could have ever hoped for.

"Then," he said with an expression she couldn't quite place, "I am happy for you. I shan't take any more of your time." She saw his extended hand, and she took it, watching in amazement as he raised it to his lips. "Farewell, Miss Yamanaka," he said, gently brushing his lips against the top of her hand.

"Is that all?"

"Eh?" he arched an eyebrow. That certainly was not her calculated response. If she said "Goodbye" in response, he would have returned home and started trying to forget her. If she had said "Farewell," as he hoped she would, it would mean that she was not dismissing him, and he could return home and rethink his strategy.

"That you had to say. To her. To me, I mean. To Miss Yamanaka."

He kept her hand in his and at the level of his chin as he watched her with immeasurable caution. "I don't know that there is anything else I _can_ say to her," he said watching her carefully.

She had the most incredibly blue eyes, he decided. They were the color of forget-me-nots, which was fitting when he considered how many times they had been on his mind lately. She had learned to mask her thoughts and expressions, but now he could see them clearly flitting across her face. Expectant. Hopeful. Nervous. Potentially crestfallen.

For the first time in his life, words failed him. The warmth of her bare hand radiated into his own and he ran a thumb across the top of her knuckles absently.

That is when the realization struck.

He had no words.

He had something better.

With a speed, fluidity, and tenderness neither expected from him, he stepped into her, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently. He pulled back to hover over her lips just long enough to gauge if he had offended. That second passed, and she did not retaliate in any way. With that assurance, he slanted his mouth over hers in a far less gentle kiss. He felt her stiffen in shock with a sharp inhalation before melting into him in a tactical surrender. The hands that had been pressed against his chest, slid around his neck, and he pulled her tighter to him, one arm banded around her waist, the other plunged into the braided softness of her hair. It was a long moment (in which the maid Mariah had entered the room before exiting quickly and unnoticed) before they broke the kiss and with carefully controlled (and shuddering) breath, and he wrapped her tightly in his arms. She nestled her head against his chest and wound her arms wound around him while he pressed his face to the crown of her head and breathed in the smell of clean soap, sunshine, and lilacs. "I have missed you terribly," he murmured into her hair.

"And I, you," she admitted. "I didn't think I'd see you again."

"That is why you said goodbye," he concluded. She nodded sadly.

"I had to," she said simply.

He pressed a kiss to her brow. "No, you didn't," he muttered.

She looked up at him with an arched eyebrow.

"Fine," he conceded. "Maybe you did. I was being a terrible ass, and we both got our lives in better order while you were gone. Well, mine went to absolute disorder, but that is beside the point."

"Is it?" she asked, trying not to smile, "Because if this is an elaborate attempt at trying to make me return to London to organize your office and take over the management of your appointments, I won't hesitate to tell Yoshino."

She felt him shudder. "Heaven forbid," he grumbled. She laughed – a warm, enchanting sound that he had missed desperately in the last few months. He smiled his characteristic wry smile. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I admit," her lips twitched in amusement. "She is amazing to watch in action."

"Well then," a sly grin slid across his features as his eyes darkened. "If you are so determined to give her a report," he heard her breath hitch as his lips hovered over hers, "Let's give you something worth telling her."

* * *

**London**

Shikaku Nara sat in his study while his two guests sipped at something strong and amber colored. Captain Akimichi sat with a file of papers in his lap, finally looking up to some point far beyond the scope of the four walls of the comfortable room.

"So after all this time?" Chōza finally asked. "We finally found Inoichi's heir?

"Ah," Shikaku sighed, sinking into the large, comfortable chair behind the desk (and nearest to the decanter).

"But how, Nara?" the large man asked, his eyes bright with something that might have been the doings of the warm liquor – or might have been ghosts of tears long since forgotten and still unshed for the third of their trio gone these many years.

"Kakashi," he nodded to the stoic man who put a book back in the pocket of his trench coat.

"Only because of your insight, Captain," Kakashi replied, sitting in the chair opposite the imposing desk.

"But what of the mother?" Chōza asked. "Whatever happened to her?"

"Miss Hana's - excuse me – Miss Yamanaka's mother died when she was young," Kakashi explained in a professionally detached and yet sympathetic voice. "She ended up in the orphanage with her mother's maiden name and no birth records. Her mother had kept her marriage to Ino's father a secret, as her family would not have approved."

"The family that was simply her father, correct?" Captain Akimichi asked, flipping through the documents.

"Yes." Kakashi nodded. "It appears that her father never approved of Captain Yamanaka – although he had not been 'Captain' at the time. As I understand it," he said looking into the swirling liquid in his glass, "Baron Hana would not have approved of any suitor for Ume and expected his daughter to take care of him in his dotage and beyond. It appears that she cared enough about Inoichi to elope and risk being disinherited. "

"And was she?" he asked. "Disinherited, I mean."

"Not successfully," Shikaku smirked. "The old man ranted about it being his wishes but his solicitor said that the gentleman never got around to filing the appropriate paperwork to disinherit his only living relative. It appears that Hiruzen Sarutobi, Esquire, has no records of changes to the will, and had initiated a search for Ume Hana."

Chōza frowned as he thought. "Sarutobi? Any relation to Asuma?"

"His father," Captain Nara smiled. "It turns out that when Yoshino spoke to Kurenai, Kurenai spoke to Asuma, who contacted his father. I already had Kakashi working on the investigation, as I had my suspicions."

"That was the missing link," Kakashi said. "When Asuma put me in touch with his father, the last few pieces of the puzzle fell into place. By the very next day, we knew who Ino really was, and Captain Nara set to work helping her claim her inheritance."

"But how…" Chōza asked.

"Ume wrote to Sarutobi once," Shikaku explained. "She wanted her father to know she was safe. There was no return address, but it was postmarked from Devonshire. Do you remember what Inoichi said to us once, Chōza? He was telling us about visiting Exeter Cathedral, and the rumor that started there. Do you remember?"

Chōza sat back and thought. "Something about a nursery rhyme, wasn't it?" he asked. "Quite a silly thing for him to discuss, and most likely balderdash. What does that have to do with anything?"

"On the papers he left me," Shikaku pulled out a note, "he left this." There was a single note in Inoichi's concise handwriting. Chōza felt something in him lurch at the familiarity of the pen strokes even as he was baffled by what they said.

"Hickory, Dickory, Dock?" Chōza asked, confused. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Nothing," Shikaku snorted. "Which is why it was so strange to find it stuffed into the paperwork. But Exeter is in Devonshire, and that it is where we finally found record of the marriage of one Ume Hana to Inoichi Yamanaka and later the christening of Ino Yamanaka. Ume moved them to London when Ino was quite young so as to support them. Her father knew nothing of her marriage or her child, and neither did Inoichi's family."

Chōza frowned as he read a particular piece paperwork in his hands. "Inoichi had left money for them; it appears she never touched even a penny of it."

"She didn't," Kakashi said sadly. "She chose to work instead. Fearing her daughter would be ostracized by Inoichi's family, she never told her about their past. When Inoichi died, Ume resolved to take care of Ino on her own."

"Until she herself became sick," Shikaku sighed. "Well, that solves the mystery of what happened to her."

"All this time," Choza said softly.

Captain Nara sighed and thought of the three of them in their Navy days. "Before he died, Inoichi confided in me that he had someone back home and that I was to see that she got everything. He knew there was going to be a child; but Ino wasn't born before he died. We never knew if we were looking for a son or daughter. After a few years, the trail went cold. I've been looking for her since."

"Inoichi was a good man," Kakashi said, folding his hands in his lap. "I think he would be grateful for all you have done."

Captain Nara smiled a bit. "Yoshino is thrilled about this," he said dryly. "As the executor of Inoichi's estate I am also named as guardian to any of his children." He smirked to the Chief Inspector. "She always wanted a daughter."

Kakashi smiled slightly and raised his glass to his old friends. "Then, to Inoichi," he proposed, "And to your family."

"To family," Choza echoed, for to him, Inoichi and Shikaku were just that.

"To family," Shikaku agreed. If he didn't miss his guess, and if his son wasn't blindingly stupid, that toast would have more meaning before long.

* * *

Yoshino stood in the hallway, eavesdropping on her husband and his friends. With a smug smile, she went back to her sitting room. She reached for the telephone, glancing over her shoulder as she waited for the operator to make the connection.

"Hello, Mariah?" she asked quickly. "How is everything?" She listened intently while a devilish grin spread across her features. "Excellent," she beamed. "Now. Get everyone out of the house. Leave them unchaperoned. If they take advantage of that, make sure you make note of it." Her brow furrowed. "Yes, I know, but it will be alright, I hired you after all, not Ino, and –"

Yoshino found the phone plucked from her hands as Shikaku dryly put the cone to his ear and spoke into the mouthpiece. "Mariah? Nevermind that. Yes. Yes….. Yes. Thank you, Mariah. Oh, and Mariah? Tell Professor Nara White Queen to A7. Yes. Thank you." He placed the phone back on the sideboard and hung it up perfunctorially. "Up to your old tricks, Yoshino?" he asked his wife dryly.

"Why in the world are you interfering," she hissed. "We finally have that addlepated son of ours in just the right position, and I hired Mariah to-"

"I know why you hired Mariah," Shikaku drawled. "Which is why I made sure she knew I was signing her paycheck." Yoshino glowered at him as he raised an eyebrow at her. "Let this one play out, Yoshino. Our son isn't nearly as hopeless as you seem to think he is."

"Yes, but-"

"Yoshino," Shikaku put a hand on her hip, and another under her chin. "Your son takes after his father. He is just clever enough to be caught by a clever woman. Now," he brushed his thumb across her chin. "Come and join us for a glass of brandy or port, rather than hanging around outside of the door. We shall toast our son, and, with any luck, our soon-to-be daughter."

"I don't want to rely on luck," Yoshino grumbled.

"Neither do I," Shikaku said easily. "That is why our son will have incredible difficulty finding a way back to the train, as he did not have the correct timetable for this journey. Also, there is nowhere to stay in town. He will most likely have to stay at the Flower Cottage. They shall not be unchaperoned, but it could still potentially be compromising – which I am sure you shan't hesitate to point out when we arrive there early in the morning."

"When we arrive-" her eyes went wide with understanding. "You wouldn't" she breathed.

"Hurry and pack a bag," he said. "The last train leaves in two hours, and we have the last available hotel room within ten miles of the Flower Cottage.

Yoshino's smile was rewardingly wicked. "I like the way you think, Husband."

"I know," he shrugged. "I presume it is why you have stayed with me this long."

"A large part of it," she admitted before kissing him soundly. "I shall be ready to go in no time at all." With that she hurried from the room, leaving a smirking Captain Nara in her wake.

"I am sorry, son," he apologized to a portrait of the three of them. "But believe me – it is far less troublesome this way."

By his calculations, at the end of this week he would have an exceedingly happy wife, a confounded son, and a daughter-in-law-to-be. He looked to the chess board, where he had tracked their game-via-telegram. With a cunning smile, he pushed his last piece into play.

"Checkmate."

-**FIN**-

* * *

About the story:

I do wish that I played chess; sadly I do not. The game in this story was taken from a 1999 match. The link is below:

The Greatest Chess Game ever played: Garry Kasparov (2812) - Veselin Topalov (2700) [B07]  
Hoogovens A Tournament Wijk aan Zee NED (4), 1999

watch?v=GDknn_HWTlc

\- 'The Secret Garden' did come out in 1912, and is one of my favorite books (and musicals!).

\- The 'flower cottage' was really a listing I found online while researching for this story. It was constructed in the 1600's. I also researched the railways at the time; St. Albans would have been one of the closest train depots. Not all of the telegrams I found from that time employed the 'STOP' at the end of the lines, but many did, and it amused me to use it.

\- The bit about the Exeter Cathedral and the relationship to the nursery rhyme is not made up. There is a second story about the cathedral and it surviving an air raid. It was a clear, moonlit night when Exeter was bombed in WWII; it is thought that the cathedral was intentionally missed.

\- I picked Hertfordshire because it is not terribly far from London, but still far enough and would have been more rural. Also, it is the county where Pride and Prejudice's Elizabeth Bennett was to have resided. She is one of my heroes!

Thank you for taking the time to read, friends! Be well!


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